Sherlock Holmes: Criminal Ties
by Balto Kodiak
Summary: Sherlock Holmes hasn't had a case for months until now. When he learns of a young thief that has been causing a lot of hype in London he agrees to take the case. Who is this mysterious thief? Could they be related to Holmes? Rated T just to be safe! R&R!
1. The Case

**Sherlock Holmes: Criminal Ties**

**Chapter 1: The Case**

**A/N: I don't own Sherlock Holmes, but it would be kinda cool if I did! Enjoy! Sorry it's a little short, one can only think so much at one in the morning.**

It was past midnight in the dark streets of London, and the predicted storm had just arrived. It was raining hard, there was thunder, lightning, wind, the whole nine yards. The streets were quiet, and all seemed well. Suddenly, a loud crash was heard all around the block, as a dark figure leapt out of a window with a large knapsack slung over their shoulder and landed on the roof of a separate building. The constables on the street immediately took action and went after the thief.

There had been an unusually high amount of pickpocket activity as well as thievery in recent months. There were rumors about the dodgy thief, as well as articles in the newspaper, about the mystery of who they were and where they came from. Nobody knew exactly who he/she was, because the only recognizable feature was a top hat they always wore, and a cane often carried by the notorious thief. Even the most renowned inspectors and detectives couldn't track them down.

Anyway, as the thief jumped across rooftops, and dodged gunfire, they came to a dead end. The distance between the building they stood on and the one in front of them was too great to jump. The constables were catching up with them, so they had to think fast. Suddenly, a clothesline came into view that led onto another building. The thief wasted no time in jumping off the rooftop, and sliding across the clothesline using their cane, the knapsack still on them.

After that, the constables lost the thief. They didn't bother chasing them to the wharf, because it was so crowded with ships.

"I swear, one of these days we'll get that little devil," said one of the constables. "Every criminal gets caught eventually."

"Not this one, Jerry. That one's been giving us trouble for months now. We've tried the most renowned detectives in England, and none can trace 'em." Another one told his partner.

"No matter, boys. We'll get 'im...'er...it, next time." That said, all walked away, cursing under their breath.

Sherlock Holmes was up early the next morning, reading the newspaper, when a knock came at the door, and in stepped Dr. Watson. Holmes had heard about a bunch of robberies and stolen wallets, and it intrigued him. He hadn't had a case in three months, and he was getting bored.

"Good morning, Holmes." Watson greeted his old friend and proceeded to remove his hat and coat.

"Always good to see you, Watson." Said Holmes, still focused on the paper. He was reading an article about the mysterious thief/pickpocket that had everybody so worked up.

"I see you're reading the article about that thief everyone's talking about. The police have been after it for months." Watson stated, sitting down.

"It's a girl, Watson." Holmes told him.

"Excuse me?" Watson seemed a little confused.

"The thief is not an 'it,' it is a 'she.' You can tell, look," Holmes got up and sat next to Watson to show him he details. "This photograph here was taken last month on a half moon, and you can see the moonlight outline the figure. You can see the long hair here, which is a dead giveaway."

"Yes, but you can also see that they have the physical build of a man. Women are not built like that Holmes, and I'd think you would know that. Also, what woman would wear a top hat and a man's jacket?" Watson reasoned.

"First of all, it's not a woman, it is a girl. Possibly of age thirteen, maybe fourteen, very tall for that age, might be around five foot eight, and with a sort of brown hair color," Holmes presented. "And secondly, she obviously does not have any family or accomplices, otherwise she wouldn't have to steal in the first place, so she is like a lone wolf. She has the loot all to herself, the little dodger, and Lord knows what she does with it."

"Alright, Holmes, let's say this is a girl you're talking about. How would she..." Watson was interrupted by another knock on the door. Holmes went to open it, and an old woman stood before him, obviously upper class.

"Mr. Holmes! Thank goodness. I have been robbed last night. It's that wretched thief! Agh! If only those incompetent policemen would actually try..." The woman was rambling, so Holmes interrupted.

"Madam. What exactly has she stolen? Judging by your attire, I would assume some jewelry, perhaps money or a wallet?" Holmes was dead on. This lady wasn't the first to tell him about the thief.

"She?"

"Yes, madam, the thief is a girl. And not a typical one at that." He replied.

"My ring and several diamond necklaces were stolen. Please, sir, help me find them!" The lady was practically begging, but maintained her upper-class ladylike attitude.

"Hm. Watson! Bring me the newspapers from the past week!" Holmes requested. Watson rolled his eyes and gave him the papers.

"Ah, here we are. In the past week, three priceless rings, sixteen wallets, and countless amounts of jewelry have been stolen by the same thief. She always seems to steal from upper-class residents, which I can understand." Holmes explained.

"Mr. Holmes, you don't need to do your little 'DNA testing' right now. Just please let me know if you find anything." The lady exited the room, and left the building.

"She was getting on my nerves." Watson said.

"Everybody complains about that damn thief. I just hope I can get a lead on her." Holmes responded.

"So you're going after her then?" Inquired Watson.

"Absolutely. High class people sometimes give me a headache," Holmes wasn't kidding, either. That lady annoyed him. "And you are going to help me."

"No, Holmes. I'm done with that. Mary doesn't appreciate me going on these 'adventures' with you."

"Figures, the old 'ball-and-chain' doesn't approve." Holmes said quietly.

"Holmes! I am saying 'no' on my own accord! I don't appreciate you insulting her like that!" Watson argued.

"I was not insulting her, I was simply stating that she is holding you down and is taking control of your mind." Holmes denied.

"No matter. I assume you're free this evening?"

"Absolutely." Holmes confirmed.

"Boxing match?"

"Wonderful."

"Punchbowl?"

"My favorite."

"Good. Mary is going out tonight with a few friends, so I need company. 8:30?" Watson said, putting his hat back on.

"Meet you there." Holmes told Watson as he left.

Holmes got out the missing items ads, and read through them for the millionth time. He also read the other articles, when something came to his attention. In the ad announcing a ball at the palace, was a picture of it. He looked a little closer, and saw a girl wearing a top hat and neck bandanna in the passing crowd. After he grabbed a magnifying glass and looked closer, he could barely see her hand in a man's back pocket. If this was the pickpocket, then she must be the same thief giving everybody trouble.

Holmes checked the date on the newspaper, and saw that it was from last Thursday! That meant the ball was on Friday! He had to get out and get a lead on her. He grabbed a coat and hat and leapt out the window onto an awning, and then jumped onto the street and got going.


	2. Looking For Clues

**Sherlock Holmes: Criminal Ties**

**Chapter 2: Looking For Clues**

**A/N: Damn writer's block. I'm trying to make this interesting for you, since I need your support, because I've never been involved with this fandom before. Sorry I keep saying "Holmes" and "Watson," that's the only thing I know to call them...and I don't know Watson's first name, except that it starts with "J." Please review! :)**

As Holmes walked the streets of London searching for clues, he grew tired and sat down on a bench in front of a pub. There, he caught a glimpse of a dull red neckerchief, before it disappeared with the crowd. Suddenly, a man cried out, "Stop, thief! My wallet!"

Holmes whipped his head around to see a girl running in the opposite direction...wearing a top hat and carrying a cane. He immediately ran after her, and was catching up, when she turned over a crate of fruit to block him. Holmes just jumped over it, and continued his pursuit. He soon came to a dead end, and looked around for the thief, and she was not to be found. Then he looked up.

The thief was using her cane to climb up the side of the building, leaving him stranded at the bottom. He saw a door leading into the building, and ran through it, sprinting up the stairs and onto the roof, where the thief was standing. Holmes stopped in his tracks, looking into her eyes for a brief second. They were dark brown...just...like...his. Holmes frowned, hesitating. Before he could put heavy thought into it, she jumped, sliding down a rope with her cane.

"Eyes just like yours? Don't be ridiculous, Holmes. Lots of people have brown eyes," Watson said, as he poured tea for himself and Holmes. "Tea?"

"Thank you. I know lots of people have brown eyes, Watson. Don't you think I would know anybody else's from my own?" Holmes argued.

"You've gone mad! You've no children, how the hell can they be exact?" Watson questioned in disbelief.

"Well, I don't know. But now that I've seen the thief, I have an idea of where she might be headed."

"And where might that be?" Watson was amused.

"A ball. At the palace. Friday. It would be the perfect opportunity for a skilled thief," Holmes explained. "Think about it: if you were a thief, highly skilled with years of experience, what would be the ideal place to hit?"

"My God, you're right! I still don't believe the eyes thing, though."

"Fair enough." Holmes stated.

"But what does trouble me, is why the hell she would dress like a man." Watson didn't understand the logic behind it.

"Simple. It's an ideal disguise when needed, and it helps her to socialize with men, seeing how they carry their wallets in their pockets."

"Or perhaps she's just a tomboy." Watson suggested.

"Yes, that is also a possibility. Based on that, we can infer that she typically engages in male-dominated activities. Activities such as rugby, football..." Holmes told him.

"Boxing, fighting, fishing..." Listed Watson.

"Exactly. So to keep track of her, we'll have to look at places where those activities are common. Also, we need to look at some places uptown. See if anybody's seen anything."

"Alright, then let's go," Watson started to get up, but Holmes didn't move. "Holmes!"

"Oh, you mean right now! Okay!" Holmes got up and put on a coat and hat, then walked out the door with Watson.

They had looked at a park, by the river, and in a few alleys. No clues whatsoever. They began walking uptown, and had little luck with the questioning. While walking, Watson spotted a large crowd gathered, and went to see what it was about. They were crowded around a man standing behind a box playing a game of monte. Watson felt tempted, but resisted.

Holmes noticed Watson watching the game, and knew he would get involved, and went to get him.

"Let's go Watson, we've got work to do." Holmes told him.

After extensive questioning and searching uptown, they started to go back. It was a long walk, and the streets were crowded with people going out for lunch. Holmes felt like he was being watched, so he snatched up a discarded hat, and put it on.

"What time is it, Watson?" He asked.

"I don't know, let me check my..." Watson put his hand in his front waistcoat pocket. No watch. "What...where's my watch? Holmes!"

"She stole your watch, didn't she? I thought you knew better than to leave your coat unbuttoned with a master pickpocket in our midst." Said Holmes, pulling the hat over his eyes.

"Yeah? Check your pockets." Holmes reached for his watch, but felt not the cool silver of the watch, but the warm cloth of his trouser pocket.

"Damn girl took my watch, too." They looked at each other, and immediately began to check all their pockets. Wallets: gone. Pocket change: gone. Watches: gone.

"Any brilliant assumptions, Holmes?" Watson asked.

"Now that you're sitting comfortably, I shall begin," Holmes began once they got back. "All she had to do was bump into us once to steal our watches, our wallets, and our pocket change. She has very nimble fingers, and is also very fast and hard to see. But, she carries a slight stench of salt water...and dirt...and, judging by the water stains and small holes around the knees on her pants, she resides near the wharf. Possibly in a houseboat, or abandoned ship."

"Yes, but there are no houseboats in the wharf." Watson countered.

"Not on our side of the city, anyway. But perhaps in the 'richer' part of the city, where most thievery has taken place. Now, I don't know exactly how to take down a thief, seeing how I don't normally take these cases, but I do know somebody who does." Holmes stated.

"Don't tell me you're going to ask Irene Adler to help on this." Irene Adler wasn't exactly on Watson's list of favorite people.

"It takes a thief to catch a thief, Watson," argued Holmes. "I believe she's still in London."

"Yes, but why would she help us catch one of her own kind? Answer me that, Sherlock."

"Easy. She loves me." Holmes replied smugly.

"Come on. Do you ever think rationally, Holmes?" Inquired Watson.

"Do you ever think outside the box, Watson?" Countered Holmes.

"Anyway, it is one o'clock and I have to meet Mary for lunch. I will see you at the boxing match tonight. Don't be late, Holmes." That said, Watson left the room.

"No promises." Holmes said to himself.

"I heard that!" Watson yelled from a separate room.

That night, while Holmes was getting ready to leave for the boxing match, when something caught his eye. An envelope sitting on his desk unopened. He recognized the address as well as the handwriting, so he went and opened it.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I apologize if I am inconveniencing you, but I also have heard about the thief. I figured you would ask my assistance, so I am offering it. I will come by tomorrow to discuss specifics. I hope you realize what you're getting into._

_Irene A._

After Holmes finished reading the short note, he tucked it into his coat pocket and left for the match.

The Punchbowl was crowded with people yelling, and drinking, and the smell of tobacco was ever present. Holmes sat down at the bar beside a rather suspicious individual. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. They had a top hat pulled over their eyes, and the collar of their coat up, concealing their face, and their hair mostly concealed by their coat collar. He did a brief study of their appearance for anything of significance.

_"Top hat: short, obviously belonged to an upperclassman, stolen. Small bloodstain on the coat: a sign of an aggressive fighter, possibly wielding a pocketknife and/or switchblade. Young age: most likely fifteen or sixteen. A golden glint coming from the inside coat pocket. Very suspicious."_

"What the hell you starin' at? Haven't ya never seen a girl at a boxing match?" The person spoke, turning to face him.

"I'm sorry, you just looked familiar." _Female, intolerant, poor, orphan. Wonderful._

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it mate." The girl extended her hand. She wore brown leather gloves on both hands, also suspicious.

Holmes shook her hand and eyed her suspiciously as she reached into her waistcoat pocket. He relaxed when he saw she was just checking the time on a silver pocket watch. Watson's watch.

"That looks a lot like my friend's watch. Where'd you get it?" Inquired Holmes.

"Found it." She replied.

"Where'd you 'find it,' then?"

Just then, Watson found Holmes and brought him over.

"Holmes! There you are. It's about time you got here." Watson dragged Holmes over to where he was previously sitting.

"Watson. Did you see the girl at the bar back there?"

"Yes, Holmes, I did, she was in plain sight." Watson replied sarcastically.

"Look closer," Holmes ordered.

Watson looked closer. He saw a flash of gold inside the inner coat pocket and a silver pocket watch. He also saw a small tear in the upper part of her right ear. Very peculiar. Being a doctor, he estimated the time of injury for the scar was approximately four days ago, and the tear in her ear was two months.

"Watch look familiar?" Holmes asked.

"Dear God, that's my watch!" Watson exclaimed, standing up.

"No, no, no, Watson!" Holmes tried to grab his friend's coat, but Watson wriggled out of it and rolled up his sleeves.

"This will not end well."


	3. Help From Abroad

**Sherlock Holmes: Criminal Ties**

**Chapter 3: Help From Abroad**

**A/N: Thank you, I now know that Watson's first name is John. Thank you for your assistance. Also, for a cane reference look up "Sly Cooper" in Google Images. That's the kind of cane I'm talking about here. Reviews are greatly appreciated! :D**

Watson stormed over to the girl at the bar, with Holmes on his heels.

"Watson, I'm warning you!" Holmes hollered from behind.

"Hey, you!" Watson called. The girl turned and stood, giving him her undivided attention.

"Yes, sir?" She was very large, about Watson's height, and her breath reeked of unidentifiable scents. It was hard for him to look away from her scar, but managed to maintain seriousness.

"You stole both my watch and my wallet this afternoon and I want them back."

"Oh, you mean this watch, and this wallet?" She inquired with a smirk, holding up both.

Watson snatched his wallet out of her hand, but before he could retrieve his watch, he was on his back. He looked up, and saw her holding a hooked cane and the watch. Holmes watched the action with awe. _This mustn't register on an emotional level..._

_First: distract opponent. Block cane, counter with cross to the left cheek. Temporary loss of balance, will attempt a face punch. Two: block face punch, counter with body shot. Crack ribs, block cane. Three: drag in left leg, fist to patella. Four: heel kick to diaphragm. In summary: two ribs cracked, one broken, diaphragm hemorrhaging, if the cane wasn't needed before, it certainly will be._

Holmes carried out the previously mentioned actions, up until the intended fist to patella. There, the girl clued in, and kneed him in the nose. He fell backwards, and she punched him in the throat, then the stomach.

"Holmes! Are you alright?" Watson kneeled next to him, and handed him a handkerchief for his bloody nose.

"Quite alright old boy, just a little blood...and maybe a broken bone." Holmes replied, tilting his head back.

"Oy!" Watson looked up. The girl held all of their pocket money. "Thanks for the tip, gents."

Watson checked his pockets.

"How the hell does she do that?"

"No matter! After her, Watson!" Holmes yelled, standing up.

The girl ran off, swiping a bottle from behind the bar with her cane and putting it in her knapsack for later. Holmes and Watson gave chase and followed her out into the frigid night air. Their breath was visible as they ran through the alleys. When they got onto the main street, the girl hopped on top of a carriage, and watched, amused, as Watson and Holmes ran after her. The carriage suddenly hit a bump, and she was knocked off.

Realizing her time was running short, she ran to the wharf. Holmes knew this ground very well and easily found his way around. The girl was cut off at the edge of the water by Holmes.

"Ah ha! Finally! Gave you a bit of a surprise, didn't we?" Holmes grabbed the lapel of her coat to ensure she wouldn't get away this time.

"I believe you've underestimated me, sir. I'm no small-time juvenile who would cower at the sound of a man raising his voice," the girl began. "I was born into this lifestyle. My mother trained me to pick pockets ever since I could reach into one. After she abandoned me, I went off on my own, stealing whatever I could get my hands on. And here I am, at fifteen, doing the same damned thing."

"Your mother abandoned you? Why?" Inquired Watson.

"Watson!" Holmes exclaimed.

"My mother abandoned me, Mr. Watson, because she couldn't take care of me." The girl replied.

"What of your father?"

"What of him? He never even knew I was born," she answered. "As you were, gentlemen."

That said, she tipped her hat, jumped into the river, and started swimming. Watson got out his pistol and aimed, but Holmes put his arm back down.

"Now, now, old boy, she is only a child, no need to inflict lethal harm." Watson put his pistol back in his pocket.

"I swear Holmes, we've run into her a thousand times, and we couldn't get her in handcuffs." Watson said, frustrated.

"I know Watson, I know. Irene Adler can help though," Holmes retrieved the note from Irene from his pocket and handed it to Watson. "She will be by tomorrow."

"I don't believe it. After almost getting sawed in half with a bandsaw, shot, and burned, she still volunteered to help." Watson scoffed in disbelief.

"Believe it, John" Holmes gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, and hurried off.

Meanwhile, the girl had just stepped out of the river, and into an old, rundown houseboat clear on the other side. It wasn't anything special. On the outside, it had several holes in the upper half, and it smelled like rotting wood. The area below deck wasn't extravagant either. It had a stove that barely worked, a fireplace, three old chairs, a table, a bookcase filled with stolen detective novels, and a cot in the corner.

She made a habit out of reading detective novels, so she knew of their methods. However, the man who kept pursuing had a different, more eccentric, approach. She had escaped every policeman, inspector, and detective in England. Ten years of stealing, ten years of eluding the law, three days of getting within an inch of being caught. She removed her shoes, took off her hat and neckerchief, and put her coat on a hook on the wall, then walked over to the cot. She already had a small dinner of sausage and bread, so she took out the bottle she swiped from the bar at the Punchbowl.

"Just two more days. Two more days until you commit the greatest robbery in all of England," she said to herself. "Damn the law, damn the drop, damn the magistrate! Got no parents, no rules, and no responsibilities. Just me against the world."

She fell asleep shortly after that. The air was freezing cold, but she had endured worse. She pulled the thin, moth-eaten blanket over her in an attempt to keep warm, and drifted off.

The next morning was as bleak and dreary as the previous. But, it was no distraction to Irene Adler. Keeping her word, she was on her way to 221B Baker Street to meet with Holmes. On arriving, she did a quick check to make sure that nothing had been taken, and walked in. Mrs. Hudson was alarmed to see her, and almost dropped the tray of tea she was carrying.

"Ms. Adler! What a…um…pleasant surprise." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Is Sherlock here?" Inquired Irene.

"Yes, he's in his office playing his violin. I was just about to bring him some tea."

"I'll take care of it." Irene took the tray, and went up to his office. She knocked three times.

"Sherlock?" Holmes was snapped out of his reverie by her voice, and put down the violin.

"Come in, Irene." Irene entered the room, set down the tray, and sat across from Holmes.

"I'm here to help you catch the thief. It takes a thief to catch a thief, doesn't it?" Irene asked knowingly. No response. "Look, this kid has been working outside the law for ten years. She started out as a pickpocket, and her operation has obviously grown since then."

"Yes, I know. Turns out she's an orphan, abandoned by her mother at age five, trained by her mother at first, she has no known father, no other immediate family, and lives in a houseboat in the river." Holmes summarized.

"Very good, Sherlock. You've gathered a lot from a few newspaper articles and one picture." Irene complimented.

"It's what I do. I am a little confused by her methods, though. There are no signs of a break-in, nothing is broken, and if you weren't really looking you wouldn't be able to tell that anything out of the ordinary had ever occurred."

"Yes, but I found the houseboat yesterday, and I found these." Irene put some drawings and small city maps in the middle of the table.

"Most engaging," Holmes commented. "These are all drawings of buildings."

"Exactly. This one here is of the palace." She pointed to one of the drawings.

"This one is a drawing of a residence. Very familiar," Holmes racked his brain looking for a direct association with the house. The realization worried him. "That's where Mary's parents live. The drawings is new, possibly from a day or two ago."

"Who is Mary?" Inquired Irene.

"Mary is Watson's fiancé. We can infer from these drawings where the thief will strike next. This drawing, being the most recent, should be the intended target." Holmes tried to remain calm, but was out of his mind thinking of a way to tell Watson about this.

"Right, so we should keep a sharp eye on this place tonight." Irene suggested.

"Indeed."

"It really is nice to see you again, Sherlock." Irene gave him that look again: the typical, falsely seductive, genuine Irene Adler look.

"For God's sake, woman, don't look at me like that." Holmes told her.

"Why not, Sherlock?"

"And don't call me Sherlock. You are here to help me, not to seduce me and steal my things," Holmes said as he retrieved a photograph that was on his desk from Irene's pocket. It was a photograph of her. "You know that I don't appreciate it."

"It's a photograph of me." Irene argued.

"In my home." Countered Holmes.

"With my face on it."

"In my space"

"On my half of the desk."

"This argument is going nowhere."

"Agreed."


	4. Temporary Capture

**Sherlock Holmes: Criminal Ties**

**Chapter 4: (Temporary) Capture**

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the great reviews! Sorry it's so short, I couldn't go much further without giving too much away. You guys keep me writing, and I greatly appreciate it! :D Now I must ponder the next chapter whilst I stroke my invisible beard… :)**

Watson and Mary went over to Mary's family's home for dinner with her parents that evening, hand in hand. Holmes and Irene had secretly followed them to keep an eye on the place. After Watson and Mary entered, Holmes and Irene went around to the back of the property. Holmes looked around to ensure that the coast was clear, and climbed up onto the flat roof of the extravagant house.

"What are you doing? I thought we were going to wait!" Irene whispered from the bottom. Before replying, Holmes lit his pipe.

"You are waiting. I am smoking." Holmes replied. Irene rolled her eyes and followed him up to the roof. Holmes got out his spyglass and looked around. All was well...for now.

"So you're a war veteran, eh Watson?" Inquired Mary's father when they all sat down.

"Yes, sir. Fought in the Afghan war." Watson replied.

"John is a decorated soldier." Mary added.

"I see. I understand you are also friends with Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, he is a very good friend, although he can touch a nerve sometimes."

Meanwhile, out on the street, a dark, mysterious figure was walking by. They were wearing a top hat, a tailcoat with a golden glint coming from the inner pocket. This was it. Holmes and Irene ducked down, so they couldn't be seen. Irene could've sworn it was a man, but Holmes knew better.

They observed intently as the figure reached into the inner pocket of their tailcoat and pulled out a hooked cane. Following that, they looked around and proceeded to climb up the side of the house to the top window. Holmes peeked over the edge to observe as they opened the window with a pocketknife, carefully so as not to cause any visible damage to the window, and entered the house.

Once the thief was inside, Holmes lowered himself down to the window and followed her in. Irene followed him, and they both went after the thief. They looked in the rooms and halls in the top floor of the house, but couldn't find her. Either the thief went downstairs, or she was hiding. Holmes sniffed the air a few times, gathering a familiar scent: salt water and dirt, and a little bit of tobacco in there somewhere.

Downstairs, Watson could hear footsteps upstairs. He began to wonder, knowing of the thief, and excused himself. He walked up the stairs, and looked for the source of the commotion. He kept his hand near the pocket holding his revolver, just in case. He heard voices coming from inside one of the rooms. Watson slowly opened the door, and found Holmes and Irene.

"Holmes! What the hell are you doing here?" Inquired Watson. Holmes shushed him.

"Tracking, my dear Watson." Holmes replied.

"Tracking what?"

"A thief."

"With a thief?" Watson turned to Irene, his expression not exactly friendly.

"It's complicated." Suddenly, a mild clutter was heard in the next room. "Care to join us, old boy?"

"Fine, but you can rely on my services for exactly five minutes. Mary and her family are downstairs waiting." Watson said.

They all entered the room where the clutter was heard, and looked around. Everything seemed to be in order, except for an open box with some items sprawled around it. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Holmes felt something hook around his leg and he fell to the floor. Then, a knapsack fell to the floor as well, the door shut and the attacker was revealed. They all knew who it was.

Irene drew her revolver, but the thief knocked it out of her hand with the cane, caught it, and quickly emptied it before dropping it back on the floor. Suddenly, Irene took hold of the thief's lapel and held her against the wall.

"Get your damn hands off me, woman!" Demanded the thief, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. Irene held a knife up to the side of the thief's neck.

"I don't think I would move if I were you, kid." Irene could see the thief moving her hand gingerly towards her pocket, and smacked it. The thief drew her hand back, and waved it around to ease the sting.

"Irene. Remember, she is only a child," Holmes said. "Put the knife down."

Irene lowered the knife, and the thief breathed a sigh of relief.

"John! Where are you?" Watson heard Mary's voice coming upstairs. Watson raised his walking stick, and the thief cowered a bit.

"Relax, kid. I'm a doctor." That said, he whacked the thief upside the head with his walking stick, rendering her unconscious on the floor.

"In here, darling!" Watson called. Mary entered the room and gasped when she saw the kid unconscious on the floor, but Holmes consoled her.

"Don't worry, madam, she is only unconscious. No need to worry," Holmes told her. "So, Irene, shall we take her back to my home for questioning?"

"Good idea." Irene replied. Holmes picked up the thief and proceeded out the door.

"What just happened here, John?" Inquired Mary.

"Nothing, dear. Let's go back downstairs."

Back at 221B Baker Street a while later, Holmes set down the thief on a chair, and handcuffed her hands behind her back and her feet to the legs of the chair. He didn't want her to escape this time. Approximately a half hour later, she woke up. Holmes was playing his violin and Irene was reading a book when they heard the chains on the handcuffs move around.

"Sleep well?" Holmes asked, putting the violin down and turning to face her.

"Where the hell am I? What do you want from me?" She inquired. "Why am I in handcuffs?"

"Because, young lady, I don't want you escaping again. We have some questions for you," Holmes explained.

"And I am starving, so let's get on with it then." She replied sarcastically.

"Who are you?" Holmes asked.

"I don't know for sure. Lots of people call me lots of things." She answered.

"Like what?" Inquired Irene.

"Mutt, Street Rat, Dodger, things like that."

"What is your real name?"

"I remember my mother called me something along the lines of 'Scout.'"

"Who was your mother, Scout?" Holmes asked.

"I don't know! She abandoned me ten years ago!"

"Do you know why?"

"She couldn't take care of me. She was too busy working and wanted to travel. I don't even know what kind of work she did. She just left me." Scout replied.

"Do you know anything about your father?"

"No, but my mother did say I had my father's eyes."

"That's all you know?"

"Other than the fact that he never knew I was born, yes."

The questioning continued for over an hour. The whole time, Irene felt a strong sense of déjà vu, like she'd seen Scout somewhere before. She looked back and forth between Holmes and Scout, and noticed a bit of resemblance. She pushed those thoughts aside, and just sat there while Holmes questioned Scout. After they finished their questioning, they both fell asleep in their chairs.

When Holmes and Irene fell asleep, Scout reached into her back pocket and pulled out her pocketknife. She put the sharp end of the blade into the lock, and fidgeted around for a bit before she heard a satisfying "click." Her hands released from the handcuffs, she scooted her chair over to Holmes, took the key from his pocket, and unlocked the cuffs around her ankles.

"What an idiot." Scout said to herself.

Scout looked around for a while, and saw a file labeled, "Thief." She picked it up and flipped through it. It was full of newspaper articles, and the only picture of her, along with several missing item ads. Scout retrieved her cane, took the file, opened the window, and leapt out onto the darkened streets below. She had to prepare for tomorrow night's events.

Nobody that she knew of had ever successfully robbed the palace, and she wanted to be the first. But, Sherlock Holmes would get in her way, so she needed to be a lot more discrete. Scout buttoned her jacket and crossed her arms to try to keep warm. It was a long walk back to her houseboat, so she took shelter in front of 221B next to the steps. She was going to be freezing in the morning, but she had endured worse.


End file.
